Intertwining Our Pasts
by kahlen369
Summary: A terrorist looking for vengeance against Eli David forces his daughters, Ziva and Tali, to temporarily move to safety in Long Island, New York. There, they stay with her Aunt Batia and meet a seventeen-year-old Tony DiNozzo, recently recalled by his father from military school. (Tiva AU)
1. Last Night I

Intertwining Our Pasts

Tiva For Want of a Nail: A terrorist looking for vengeance against Eli David forces seventeen-year-old Ziva and twelve-year-old Tali, to temporarily move to safety in Long Island, New York. There, she stays with her Aunt Batia and meets a seventeen-year-old Tony DiNozzo, recalled by his father from military school. Planned as the first in the Ripples in the Tides Series, but no promises.

Note: I actually came up with the idea and wrote most of the first two chapters to this fic a few years ago, so the chapters that follow afterward might be a little different writing style wise. Hopefully, this time I won't lose my motivation halfway through and I'll actually be able to finish this story.

Also, assume anytime the Israeli characters are talking amongst themselves, they're doing it in Hebrew, unless specified.

* * *

Last Night I

Despite the fact that it went against all of her new training to display her emotions so blatantly on her face, Ziva David couldn't quite stop the scowl that managed to make itself a permanent fixture throughout the hour or so of packing her things. She knew she'd get a scolding if her father had caught her being so open with her displeasure, but at the moment she couldn't quite find it in her to care. Though it was perhaps a bit petty, she found some small satisfaction in being able to disobey _some_ of his instructions. If she couldn't refuse the more important orders, she could at least play mutiny in some of the lesser ones to relieve her stress. It was a consolation prize-and a bad one at that-but it was all she had, so she made do with it.

Ziva David was not a fool. Despite the fact that she knew how to kill a man over twenty different ways with only her bare hands, had been handling knives since she was eleven, guns since she was thirteen, and could handle both almost as well as any pro in the field, she was still only a seventeen year old girl. She was still just a _civilian_ without any "real" experience out in the field. If she stayed behind, even with all her talent and training, she would only be a liability, another _civilian_ who needed to be protected. She understood perfectly the logic behind her father's actions, and even agreed with it, because she was nothing if not practical. But that did not mean she was happy about it. The fact that she was still being treated like a helpless child and being shipped off to safety at the first sign of trouble, despite everything that she'd learned and accomplished. It made all the blood, sweat and tears she'd shed over the years feel just a little bit pointless.

Fighting the urge to curse at the unfairness of it all, Ziva made a last check-up of all the things she would need for the trip. The estimated duration of the trip was eight months (to cover the whole school year). It was a relatively long stretch of time and the longest she'd ever been away from her homeland so Ziva had to prepare accordingly. Most of what she would need could be found in Aunt Batia's house (where they would be staying) or bought at the nearest store there so she had packed only the things that she either needed immediately or would otherwise be unable to get. This left her with one large suitcase that still had a sizable amount of space left in it. During her packing, Ziva had been forced to fight her instinct to shove her weapons in among her clothes. It was important that they keep a low profile, so arrangements for permission to bring weapons would not be happening. Once again, though Ziva understood the reasoning behind it and even agreed with it, she couldn't stop herself from being unhappy about it. The various knives and guns that were stowed away in various locations throughout bedroom would have to stay in Tel Aviv. Even the two (sometimes three, if she were feeling particularly anxious) knives she usually carried concealed on her person could not be brought.

Without her usual cache of weapons close by, and only a single small Swiss army knife (it was the most her father would allow) in her right pants leg as her protection, Ziva felt almost naked. Though she consoled herself with the fact that she would be getting replacements once she got to America (no matter what her father said against that), she still felt antsy about the time between that. While her expertise in hand to hand combat was nothing to sneeze at and was enough for most situations, the security provided by her weapons was a safety blanket that she would most definitely miss.

Trying very hard to not grab the nearest blade and slip it somewhere on her person, she did one final sweep of her luggage, person and room. She came to the conclusion that she was as ready as she was ever going to be for the sudden move, and with over half a day left to spare. Now, there was nothing left for her to do except to double and triple check her things, and find something to keep her mind off the various things that were irritating her.

Her first choice for relieving stress, which was beating the living daylights out of a punching bag or a punching buddy-also known as her sparring partners-was unfortunately currently not a viable option due to lack of time. So Ziva headed over to Tali's room to check on her sister instead.

Unlike her, Tali was actually excited about going to the United States. She had never been to the America before and was treating the whole thing as a great big adventure. However, it was clear to Ziva, who probably knew the girl best, that she was also hiding a considerable amount of worry and anxiety behind her optimistic mask. While Tali was indeed five years younger and still possessed an almost childish naivety about the world, she did understand the gravity of the situation they were it, even if she wasn't aware of all the details. Tali was not a fool either (because genetics did mean _something_), and she knew that their temporary move to the United States was not for leisurely purposes.

Their father, a Mossad field agent who specialized in assassinations, was being targeted by a psychotic terrorist bent on revenge for his recently assassinated father and brother. This was not a rare occurrence, and despite some slight anxiety, everything was still more or less standard. Two weeks ago, however, their paternal grandmother was nearly killed by an unknown assailant in her sky-rise apartment. The unknown assailant was later identified to be the psychotic terrorist in question. He had been attempting to put a bullet through the old woman's head, and it was only through her own skill (she was retired Mossad, after all) and some luck (because it was two in the morning, she was caught by surprise, and she was _sixty-two _after all), that she managed to survive the encounter.

Arrangements for her grandmother to stay with an old friend in Switzerland, as well as their own temporary move to the US, had immediately been made. Ziva and Tali would be staying at their maternal aunt's house in Long Island, New York, and attending the local high school once when the school year started in a week. The rest of Eli's living family, which included his younger brother (who refused to leave his horses) and his older half-sister (who refused to leave her job), would be put under protective surveillance but remain otherwise undisturbed from where they were.

While her father, as well as her older half-brother Ari, would remain in Tel Aviv to assist in the terrorist's capture. This fact was one of the focal points of Ziva's irritation. Ari's smug and taunting look as the announcement was made had not helped matters. They had always had something of a rivalry, their competitive streaks making it so that they were constantly one-upping the other in just about everything. Through forces beyond her control, namely her father and practical reasoning, she had been forced to wave her white flag for this round before the battle had even begun. Ziva anticipated a year's worth of ribbing before Ari would let it go. Sometimes she wondered which of them was truly four years older than the other. This time, Ziva really wished the answer was her so she could be the one helping her father put down a rabid terrorist instead of flying off to safety with the _civilians_.

As she neared Tali's room, she heard the tell-tale noises of her sister's growing frustration. Clearly, even the little ball of sunshine that was her sister could fall prey to the lesser emotions. Not bothering to knock on the door (older sister privileges and whatnot), she found herself greeted by the sight of a disheveled and slightly red Talia David engaged in a one-sided conversation with her suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

Ziva's irritation with the overall situation was chased slightly away by her confusion at the scene before her.

"Packing my things," her sister answered with an angry pout as she leveled her best death glare (which looked too cute to be entirely menacing) at the suitcase lying on her bed.

"I can see that," replied Ziva with a slightly raised eyebrow as she took in the two bulging and clearly over-packed suitcases which were currently split wide open for all the world to see.

"I can't get it to close," Tali explained a bit belatedly, as Ziva had come to the same conclusion after taking a look.

"Perhaps you should lessen your things then?" Ziva suggested, a touch of amusement coloring her voice.

Tali frowned before saying, "But then I won't have everything I need."

Ziva gave a long suffering sigh before she said, "Tali, we are not going to the South Pole. I'm sure you can find most of what you need when we get to America."

The frown on Tali's face grew deeper and with an indignant huff she retorted, "Maybe I don't want to waste my money that way."

Ziva's calm gaze did not waver as she ordered, "Show me what you've packed and I'll explain to you why you ought to leave it behind."

This time, the frown on her face was downright comedic.

"But—"

Moving over to the suitcase, Ziva picked up an object at random, "Do you really need to bring five stuffed toys?"

Tali made a very convincing impression of a ripe tomato as she quickly snatched the offending item from her sister.

"You can bring one, Tali," Ziva's voice brooked no argument as she moved on to look at the rest of the items.

"But then she'll be lonely," Tali argued futilely as she gripped Mrs. Muppet closer to her chest.

"You can get her a new friend once we get to America,"

"But-"

"Why do you have three tubes of toothpaste? You do realize they sell toothpastes in America, don't you?"

"They don't have this brand in America-I checked. We don't know how long we'll be staying there, and besides, they're all different flavors. I even have your favorite."

"Bring _one_, Tali,"

"But what if it runs out?"

"Use frugally," she shrugged nonchalantly, utterly inured to Tali's growing distress.

"You have entirely too many clothes. I believe I have already told you, but we are not going to the South Pole. What do you need all of these clothes for?" She asked incredulously, pointing to the large pile of clothes in the middle of the suitcase.

"It's not like I can just wear the same thing over and over again!"

"I'm not asking you to bring just one-"

"What a surprise," Tali muttered sarcastically.

Ziva spared her a glare before continuing, "They have washing machines there, Talia. Bring a dozen. I am already being very kind. _I_ have only brought six."

"Twelve?!"

"Yes, Tali, that is what a dozen means. Perhaps you should brush up on your math."

This time it was Tali who sent her sister a glare but to her disappointment and utter non-surprise, Ziva remained unfazed.

"I'm only supposed to wear twelve sets of clothes for the entire trip? You do realize it's eight _months_, not weeks."

"We will buy new clothes there. I know how much you enjoy that," Ziva pointed out, "Besides, isn't fashion all about the mixing and matching? I am sure you will get over a dozen different sets from your six."

Tali wanted to object but couldn't deny the logic of Ziva's words. Letting out a small resigned sigh, Tali decided it was probably in her best interests to simply succumb to her older sister's wisdom and follow her advice.

oOo

It was nearly another two hours before the two sisters managed to get Tali's things down to a manageable level. In the end, she was left with two very stuffed large suitcases and the promise of even more things on the return trip (they were going to have to buy more suitcases).

"I hope we won't have to do the same thing on the return trip," Ziva commented as she stretched her back across Tali's bed. Packing had been surprisingly tiring work, though it had been mostly due to the constant argument over what to bring than the actual packing.

Tali's slightly sheepish smile told Ziva that her hope was futile.

Letting out a resigned sigh, she gave a tired smile and said, "I suppose this is what sisters are for."

Her sister's answering grin almost made the effort worth it. Almost. For a moment, they reveled in a companionable silence, born from equal parts tiredness and contentment. It occurred to Ziva as they sat shoulder to shoulder against the headboard of Tali's bed that moments like this did not happen too often lately. Both of them were too caught up in their separate lives to take the time to just relax and enjoy each other's company. Ziva realized she had missed it. Though in some ways, Ziva had always been closer to Ari because of their similar personalities, the bond between the sisters had still been a very close one. Tali was easy to love with her bubbly personality and kind heart, and Ziva could not deny the soft spot in her own heart for the younger girl. Ziva had also not been lying when she claimed that she probably knew the twelve-year-old girl best. She could easily recall the hundreds of hours they'd spent lying in bed together talking through the night. They had shared everything, from deep dark secrets to their most inane random thoughts to each other.

"It's been a while since we've done this-just hanging out," Tali said suddenly, breaking the silence and voicing Ziva's inner thoughts.

"Too long," Ziva agreed, because it was true.

"We should do it more often," Tali said softly.

Ziva smiled and slipped her sister's hand into hers before replying, "Yes."

The pair slipped into a comfortable silence once more, each quietly enjoying the other's company. Ziva let herself relax as she leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. Her earlier irritation slowly ebbing away until it became little more than a distant memory. She knew it would likely come back later, with the speed and suddenness of wildfire because that was simply how she was, and at some point, something would likely remind her of the reasons she angry. But for now, she could lose herself in the nice, easy silence that grown between them, and enjoy the temporary peace it offered. This was one of the reasons Ziva had come to visit her sister. Tali could calm and comfort her in a way no one else could.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Tali broke the silence.

"Aba and Ari will be okay here, right?"

Her voice was soft, soft enough that had Ziva not been right next to her she would have likely missed it. But Ziva had been expecting it. This was the other reason she had come to check on her sister.

"Of course they will, Tali," Ziva smiled as she wrapped a comforting arm on the other girl's shoulder. "Not only can they handle themselves, they've got a Mossad team with them as backup."

Tali nodded, even though she knew all of this already. There was no stopping the fears and the worries from creeping in. Having her older sister's assurance helped to ease some of her worry though.

"Do not worry, Tali, Aba would never let anything happen to himself or Ari," Ziva continued as she gave Tali's shoulders a light squeeze, "He loves you far too much to do that to you."

"He loves you too," Tali reminded softly, and Ziva remembered that Tali knew _her _best too.

Despite the tightening in her chest, Ziva could only smile in response as she wrapped her arms around her sister, because Tali was _Tali_. Ziva thought she probably loved her more than anything in the world, and not just because she was easy to love, but perhaps also because she loved too easily. Even if it meant hurting herself, Ziva would never hurt Talia David. Words of anger and jealousy would die in her throat before they even formed.

It was not that she doubted the truth of Tali's words. She knew that her father loved her. It was in the way pride shone in his voice every time he congratulated her on one of her achievements, in the way he took time from his work to show her things like how to properly disassemble a Beretta and how to keep oneself alive in the wild with nothing more than a knife. Her father loved her, she knew that. But then, Ziva saw the way he was with Tali. All kind words and gentle touches, and she couldn't help but think that he loved Tali _more_. He was always so much _softer_ when he was with Tali. He rarely raised his voice with her and every time she did something wrong, all she would get was an exasperated sigh and ask for a promise to never do it again. When Ziva did something wrong, she was lucky to getonly a few lashes with the belt as punishment.

But even when she found herself bristling at the unfairness of it, she knew that it wasn't her father's fault. Not really. Her father treated Tali like a precious flower because that was what Tali _was._

Tali was sunshine and joy and all the goodness in the world wrapped up in one giggly, caring and forever smiling bundle, and Ziva-Ziva was the sharp end of the spear. Ziva was all edges, fiery passion and stubborn determination. She was not something that needed to be handled gently or protected from the monsters of the world. But even though Ziva did not _need_ to be handled softly or protected from the dark side of humanity, sometimes, despite it all, she _wanted_ to be. Because even though Ziva had long ago committed herself to the harsh path she would travel in the name of her country-even though she had seen horrors and evils that had aged her into that of someone twice her age, sometimes-she reverted back to the little girl she hadn't been able to fully cast aside. She found herself, sometimes-always just for a moment- wishing to be cradled protectively in her father's arms as he whispered comforting words in her ear and let her dry her tears against his shirt. Sometimes, she regretted the path she'd chosen to take. Sometimes, she thought she'd made a terrible mistake in asking him to teach her how to fight.

In the end, she could not blame her sister. She didn't think she could ever blame her for anything, especially for something like this, and she could not blame her father either because he _did_ love her even if it wasn't in the way she wanted sometimes. So she could only blame herself. It was true, anyway. After all, it had been her choice to make him look at her as though she were an assassin-in-training and not a little girl that needed to be protected.

She had asked him, _begged_ him, for the training to become a fighter. She had hated feeling helpless. She had hated being able to do nothing while people around her died and her beloved country descended into chaos. Finding that she was good at it, that she genuinely enjoyed it had been a bonus. She loved her knives and her guns, and all the training that made her a better fighter each day. She loved to feel the adrenalin rushing through her veins and the visceral satisfaction at having bested someone twice her size. Most of the time, she thought that asking for training, for Mossad, was the best decision she had ever made.

But whenever she saw the way he treated Tali, she couldn't help but think about all the what-ifs. What if she was someone innocent again? Someone who did not know how little pressure it took to kill someone, who did not know that many ways to make a homemade bomb, who could look at America as an adventure instead of an insult to her pride. Sometimes she couldn't help but picture herself being the one comforted and protected instead. Even though she knew it wasn't the intention of either one, it felt a bit like a slap to the face every time. She couldn't help but feel like she was being mocked, taunted with a fate she could never have.

"I know," she said eventually, because it was true, even if it wasn't the whole truth, and maybe because it was all she could really say.

Her sister did not reply, but simply tightened her hold on Ziva's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. There was a sad look in her eyes, as though she knew exactly what Ziva had meant to say anyway.

"Have you said goodbye to your friends yet?" Ziva asked, because she needed to change the direction of her thoughts.

"Last night," Tali replied with a slightly wistful smile as she gave her sister's hand another comforting squeeze, "we had a sort of going away party the day before that."

Ziva nodded, shaking away her previous thoughts and focusing on the conversation at hand.

"Was it fun?"

"A lot of fun, though it got kind of sad by the end," Tali replied softly, her eyes growing slightly distant as she recalled the memory, "I'll really miss them all."

Nodding slightly, Ziva sent her sister a sympathetic look. Though she was less vocal and emotional about it, Ziva would miss her own friends as well. While she had not spent much time with them recently thanks to all her training, she would miss them all the same once she was an ocean away instead of only a few blocks.

"You will still be able to talk to them," Ziva reminded not unkindly.

"I know. There's phone calls and everything," Tali replied, frowning slightly, "but it's still not the same, you know?"

Ziva hummed in agreement, placing a commiserating arm around her sister.

"We must do what we must," she told the younger girl, before steering the conversation to less serious topics.

For the next hour or two, the two sisters chatted about inconsequential things, simply enjoying each other's company.


	2. Last Night II

Intertwining Our Pasts

Tiva For Want of a Nail: A terrorist looking for vengeance against Eli David forces seventeen-year-old Ziva, along with her younger sister, Tali, and older half-brother, Ari, to temporarily move to safety in Long Island, New York. There, she stays with her Aunt Batia and meets a seventeen-year-old Tony DiNozzo, recalled by his father from military school. First in the Ripples in the Tides Series.

Regarding the timeline: to make Tony and Ziva the same age, I've had to fudge the timelines quite a bit. Their birthdays are now somewhere in between their old ones, so comes NCIS they'd both be in their early thirties. That means this fic is somewhere in the 80's. It will probably seem more like the 90's or early 00's though, simply because I'm more familiar with that. Just go with it.

Regarding the languages: Assume all the Israeli people (including Ari) are speaking in Hebrew when speaking to other Israelis unless otherwise stated. Language differences will become more evident later on, when the story moves away from Israel.

Also ...how 'bout some reviews, guys? I'm not the type who holds a story "hostage" or begs for reviews, and I'm writing this for myself more than anything... But a little love would be nice. :)

* * *

Last Night II

Ziva finally left Tali to make a few last phone calls to her friends, feeling better than she had before she'd talked to her sister. She was still far from ecstatic about the forced trip to America, but at least she no longer felt the urge to punt her fist into the wall. In fact, she had calmed enough that she was now in search of her other family members, especially Ari.

It was a far cry from the family manor they had lived in before, the large house in Haifa that had been passed down from her great-great-grandfather. At one point, it had housed many of her relatives. Now though, with everyone's lives so scattered, it was home only to a caretaker and whoever happened to be available during the summers.

As she walked in search of her brother, the sun had begun to set, casting the hallways in a fading golden light. A glance out the window showed the busy streets of Tel Aviv locked in traffic. It made her long briefly for her uncle's farm, with all it's forests and Arabian horses. Though she'd grown up in the heart of the city, summers had been spent helping out her uncle at his farm. They'd made quite an impression on her, and while she appreciated the convenience of urban living, a part of her ached for somewhere closer to nature.

On her way to Ari's room, she could see that the door to her father's study was closed tightly, and there was the muffled noise of a man speaking harshly in Hebrew. She wisely left it alone and continued in search of her brother instead. Unfortunately, his room proved to be empty, making her frown. Hopefully, it only meant that brother was elsewhere in the house instead-downstairs, most likely-and not out somewhere.

Her hopes were answered when she found Ari in the kitchen, going over case files with a look on intense concentration in his face. There was a cup of tea on the counter, long cold. She mentally rolled her eyes at the sight. He was always terrible about taking care of himself. That cold cup of tea was likely the only thing he'd had all day. Despite herself, a fond smile began to take root on her face as she watched her brother's seemingly oblivious expression. While she still held some resentment over Ari's inclusion in the mission, the long talk with Tali had managed to lessen those flames considerably.

So much so that she'd managed to realize with some surprise that in her preoccupation with her own frustrations over the situation, she hadn't noticed that the older boy had not been rubbing in his "win" over her as per usual. Other than a smug look during the announcement, and some light ribbing after, he had been surprisingly quiet about his most recent "point" against her. It was most unusual, since experience had once proved him capable of gloating for over two weeks straight. Their competitive streaks were the stuff of legends, and though neither would ever admit it, they were both sore losers. They weren't the best winners either, since every time one of them one upped the other, they had a tendency to rub it in. So it was all very out of character for him, and it provided another reason why she needed to find the older boy.

She stood for few long moments by the stairs with no acknowledgement from the other boy, before she finally gave up. A faint rumble in her stomach made her remember her priorities. She'd hoped to find Ari here but her initial reason for coming into the kitchen was more personal. With a short huff of exasperation at her brother's antics, she made her way to the refrigerator. There wasn't as much in the way of variety or quantity as she'd like. Still, it would be enough for a quick meal for four people if she was careful.

After their mother's death, they had hired a housekeeper who did most of the cooking and cleaning around the house. Ziva always tried to cook herself whenever she could though. Her mother had taught her well, before her passing. Now, it was one of the few pleasures she allowed herself, justifying it by also cooking for whoever happened to be in the house at the time. No one had complained.

Her father stepped foot in the kitchen only to make coffee, and while Ari could make a few simple dishes, he did not usually have the patience or inclination to cook. Tali... well, she certainly had enthusiasm in spades. After the incident involving the oven six months ago, however, she had been summarily forbidden from any and all cooking attempts for the foreseeable future. She had pouted rather heavily at that until Ziva had promised to teach her how to cook. Abba had relented to the lessons so long as Ziva would keep a close and wary eye on her younger sister's movements. So far, the lessons had not being going as well as they'd hope, not the least because neither had enough time to keep it up regularly.

Ziva glanced back up to see that Ari had yet to look up from his reading to acknowledge her. She could see the slight twinkle in his eyes that betrayed his amusement at her annoyance though proving that he was paying more attention that he seemed. Though he was normally a fairly serious person, he also possessed a playful side that tended to go into overdrive around his siblings. For someone in his twenties, He could be very immature. Shaking her head with fond exasperation, she resisted the urge to throw a carrot at his head. Her brother was such a pain sometimes that the urge could be very hard to resist.

Instead, she looked down at what she had started to take out from the fridge, pausing as she reconsidered the number. There was was no telling what time her father would finish up his business. Considering past experience, it was entirely possible that it would go on well into tomorrow morning. Anything she made now would simply end up in the refrigerator once again, untouched. Tali would probably come down at some point later, though. She resolved to make enough for three people, but reminded herself to leave Tali's share covered in the pan to keep it warm for her.

Decision made, she returned her attentions back towards placing everything on the chopping block she had laid out. The weight of the chopping knife was heavy and familiar. She allowed herself to get lost in the rhythm of cutting up the vegetables, even humming an old Hebrew pop song under her breath.

It wasn't long before the savory smell of stew began to fill the kitchen.

oOo

By the time she was done, Ari had long stopped pretending not to notice her presence. Despite his disinterest in the act for himself, he loved to observe her cooking. In his more sentimental moments, he could admit that it reminded him of similar days watching his mother (both of them).

"I'm going to miss your cooking most when you are gone," Ari commented with a measure of honest wistfulness.

Ziva was a little surprised that those were his first words to her after his little fit of silent treatment. The sudden change of mood left her feeling flatfooted, which was a feeling she definitely didn't like. It didn't take long for her to regain her bearings though.

"Flatterer," she said flatly, but didn't hide the slight upturn of her lips that softened the blow and showed her pleasure at the comment.

He grinned, his expression lightening. "Only when it's true."

She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. For some reason she could not understand, people seemed to fall for her brother's charms easily. Half of the girls in her class had developed instant crushes on him after he'd met her after school once. It was frustrating, to put it lightly. Some of the more persistent and less intelligent had taken to bothering her about his schedule. Needless to say, she eventually resorted to semi-violent measures to get them to stop. It was around that time that her reputation had begun to grow.

"If you don't stop, you won't be getting a single bite of my cooking," she warned him.

He immediately signaled his surrender. "I will be good," he promised, before getting up to help her set the food on the counter.

They ate mostly silently after that, with only the sound of the cutlery clanging against the plates and a few sighs of appreciation from Ari To disturb the quiet. It made for an uncharacteristically soft night, as the kitchen's yellow bulb cast the room in a warm glow and the soft strains of an old jazz song drifted from the radio she had turned on. It was nice, for a lack of a better word, and she was almost sad to have to end it.

They were halfway through the meal when Ziva's patience ran out and she finally broke the companionable silence to ask about something that had been bothering her.

"I am surprised you have not been lording your victory over me," she started casually, nodding at the folders under the table that contained all the pertinent information regarding the man gunning after their father.

Ari raised an eyebrow, not buying the "casualness" of the statement at all. "Would you rather I did?"

"Would you rather I not cook for you?" She asked him, mocking the inanity of his question.

"I was simply being considerate of your position," he admitted, after a long moment.

Ziva glared at him then. Her brother really should've known better. If there was one thing she hated, it was pity. He knew that-he was the same way after all.

"That has never stopped you before," she pointed out testily.

He held up his hands. "I know how frustrated I would be in your position."

She only continued to glare at him.

"These last few days have been stressful enough. I would not want to be want pushed you over the edge," he elaborated.

Ziva lessened her glare but did not allow the frown to slip off her face.

Ari smiled, adding, "After all, I would not want you to test your newly acquired knife-throwing skills on me."

"That possibility is not yet off the table," Ziva reminded him warningly.

"I thrive in high-risk situations," he responded easily, making her roll her eyes.

"You are deliberately deflecting from the topic."

"What do you want me to say, Ziva?" He asked, exasperated. "I am telling you the truth."

"But not the whole truth," she concluded shrewdly, intimately familiar with the concept of half-truths.

Her brother broke his gaze, conceding defeat.

"I don't want our last conversations with each other to be about a childish feud," he finally admitted.

"We are not leaving for America permanently," she pointed out, brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you not telling me?"

Her mind whirled with the possibilities. Officially, he was a graduating student at one of the universities in Tel Aviv, awaiting acceptance into the medical program in Edinburgh. Unofficially though... Well she knew enough about her father's plans to be worried and not nearly enough to have any idea of what was going through her brother's mind. She didn't like not knowing anything about that.

Also, Ari might not have been "officially" Mossad, but that did not exempt him from being given the missions of one. After all, even though he was only a college student, he was supposed to be stating in Tel Aviv as back up for her father's operation against the terrorist bent on revenge against him. Had something changed? Was there already a serious problem that needed his attentions?

He shook his head, wordlessly denying her suspicions-which only made them stronger.

"Death is always waiting at his doorstep."

That was a remarkably fatalistic statement, even if it did possess a kernel of truth. Living in a country like Israel meant that all of them-even the innocents like Tali-had a closer relationship with death that they might've preferred. It was always a possibility, at any given time, and they had all learned to accept that to some extent. They tried to make the time they had count. Stil, none of that had ever stopped him before.

"Has something happened?" She asked, staring at his face as though she could see all the answers there.

His expression darkened minutely, confirming her suspicions and making her insides tremble with a sudden burst of fear.

"No," he denied firmly, his eyes telling her to drop it.

Ziva hesitated. They had always shared a close relationship despite-or perhaps because of-their rivalry, but it was not the kind that involved heart-to-heart talks and sharing secrets. In the end, they were both too alike, too proud and too guarded.

After a few minutes of tense silence, she decided to let it go. She hoped she wouldn't regret it. Ari finally let the tension bleed out of his expression when she made it clear that she would not be persuing the topic.

"Promise me you will be careful," was the only thing she said, knowing it was the most she could ask.

He nodded seriously.

"Promise me you will take care of yourself in America as well," he asked in her return, a flash of worry flitting across his expression that made her regret the decision not to ask already.

She did not say anything though, choosing to return to her forgotten plate after one last pointed look.

They finished the rest of the meal in silence. Unfortunately, it was not quite as companionable as the one in the beginning. There were too many unsaid things lingering in the air for it to be truly quiet.

oOo

As Ziva predicted, Tali eventually showed up to the kitchen.

Ziva and Ari had both long finished dinner, though they had not yet cleaned up. Instead, they had wordlessly agreed to leave behind the seriousness of their last conversation and try to lighten the mood of their last night together. So they had caught each other up with the latest gossip on their mutual acquaintances, the breaking news stories from the paper, and all manner of other mostly unimportant things. They both stopped talking once they saw their sister though, mostly because they'd ended up in a rather heated debate regarding one of Israel's political enemies that involved liberal use of words they would both rather keep from the one remaining innocent David's ears.

Tali skipped down the steps with a bright smile on her face before greeting both her siblings warmly. Ziva and Ari shared a fond look between them. They both shared the opinion that Tali was the best of them. She had a heart filled with kindness and a smile that brightened up both their worlds. It would not have been much of an exaggeration to say that she was their light.

"Oohh, you made dinner, Zivi?" Tali asked eagerly upon seeing the dirty dinner plates still on the table.

"I thought I could do it one last time for this one over here," she explained wryly, pointing at Ari with a spoon.

Ari stuck his tongue out childishly, making Tali giggle and Ziva roll her eyes.

"Your share is still in the pan, tateleh," she informed her sister kindly.

Tali cheered and moved to find a plate. Ziva shook her head at her sister's antics, but let a smile grow on her face all the same. The kitchen seemed brighter all of a sudden despite the darkening night, thanks to her presence. With Tali around, it was hard to hold to the darkness.

"What were you two talking about before I came down?"

Ziva sent Ari a brief accusing look. He had been the one to start the conversation that had degenerated into an argument filled with swear words that their sister should never hear.

"The latest in Iranian politics," Ari answered smoothly.

They all knew how much Tali hated talking about politics. She thought it was all too needlessly confusing.

Tali shot him a doubtful look. "It sounded pretty heated."

"We have very strong feelings about the candidate this year."

Ziva had to force herself not to laugh. Ari's deadpan look was very convincing, but their sister clearly knew him too well to fall for it.

The younger girl was pouting fully now. "You're lying!"

"Of course not," he denied quickly. "Why would I lie to you, tateleh?"

"Because you two were talking about something bad, again."

The older boy wore an exaggerated look of indignation. "Bad? Me? I would never!"

Tali continued to look accusingly at him, while Ziva finally let out a bark of laughter, well familiar with her brother's antics.

"How was your talk with your friends?" She eventually asked, taking pity on him and distracting the younger girl from her line of questioning against him.

Thankfully, Tali took the bait. Her sister brightened immediately as she started rambling, "It was great. I mean it was a little sad 'cause I won't be seeing them for months, Leilah promised to call every day and you know how funny Samuel is-I was laughing the entire time we talked."

"That's nice," Ziva said indulgently, shooting a quick smirk towards Ari that told him how much he owed her for getting their sister off his case. Ari glared at her, silently telling him how little he appreciated the help.

Tali continued to tell her story, oblivious to their exchange.

oOo

After that, they stuck to safe topics, talking about school, friends and plans for America. The youngest David's enthusiasm was contagious and laughter often followed their conversation, usually at Ari's expense, as the two girls teamed up to tease him. It made for a rare postcard perfect moment for the small family.

Despite their best intentions, it was rare to find the three siblings together for more than a few moments.

They all had lives that took too much of their time. Ari was finishing up his last year of university here and preparing for medical school in Edinburgh, Scotland. He was hoping to get his acceptance letter in a few months. Meanwhile Ziva was spending more and more of her time in training for Mossad, even as she did double duty as a high school student who managed to maintain high grades and a surprising amount of extracurricular activities. Though Tali had the least amount of obligations out of the three, she also had the widest and most active social circle (discounting all the Mossad contacts available to the other two) and she was often out with one friend or another. Also, unlike Ziva, she had kept up her dance and piano lessons, though she'd been focusing much more on her art lessons lately. Their busy schedules meant that more often than not the most they saw of each other was when they bumped into each other in the hallways on the way out of the house.

It made Ziva almost wish that Ari was going with them to America. In an unfamiliar place filled with unfamiliar people, they would no doubt be forced into some much appreciated sibling bonding time while the acclimated to the new environment.

Moments like this were all too infrequent, and she couldn't help but wish it could last longer. Time did not wait forever though. The night grew long, and eventually, Tali broke into a yawn halfway through a sentence.

"Come on, tateleh. It is time for bed," Ziva announced sternly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Tali pouted. "But Zivi..."

"We must wake up early for our flight tomorrow," she reminded.

The younger girl was still resistant but another yawn slipped from her mouth before she could begin to protest.

"I will help her to bed, Ziva." Ari offered, already getting up from is chair. "You work on the dishes."

"I don't need help going to bed!"

"You just don't want to clean up the kitchen!"

The sisters cried out at the same time, sending twin glares in his direction. Ari ignored their objections, even grinning shamelessly as he quickly half-walked, half-carried Tali out the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. He left Ziva cursing his name under her breath as she began gathering up the dirty plates.


End file.
